#might like empty out my wardrobe tomorrow and sell some more clothes :/

[ringeddplover]

i wish i had more money, i could dress even cooler

[spitpr1ncess]

BRUISED BODIES CHAPTER 3 LEVI ACKERMAN X READER

                                                   (not my image)

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Gentle rays of sun push through the curtains that protect you from the outside world, they fall like precious feathers across your sleepy face, you rouse from your restful slumber and bring yourself to open the curtains fully, letting mother nature embrace you as you appreciate another day alive. You have an alarm clock but you find the natural light is much more kind to you. You take a deep inhale and breathe life into your lungs, you close your eyes and scrunch them as tight as they will go as you exhale, letting any tension and anxieties about the day evaporate.

You set about making your bed, the beautiful ivory sheets are pulled taught and your duck down pillows plumped, you fold your nightdress and set it down on the chair next to your window. A few years ago, Boss had bought you a record player for your 18th birthday, and it was crisp mornings like this that called for some soft, classical music. You place a record down gently and lift the stylus, as it makes contact your room is filled with ethereal sounds, you hum and dance around slowly, opening your heavy wooden wardrobe to pick something out that will adequately satiate Boss’s hunger.

You hold up a few lingerie sets in front of your nimble body and stare into the mirror, you’ve lost a significant amount of weight the last few months, you notice your chest has all but ceased to exist at this point, Boss will not be happy about that. You decide on a soft cream set, a corset that pinches your waist in and pushes your chest up to its maximum capacity, with beautiful satin panties that you’ve altered yourself. With your weight loss, a lot of the clothes you wear leave you swimming in them, you stitched darts into the front, pulling them in and creating a feminine silhouette that accentuates your barely-there curves.  You pull a pastel pink silk gown over your arms and set about applying a little make up. Pinching your cheeks and lips to draw the blood to them, you give yourself a natural blush. You pull a dark brown pencil through your brows, add white to the waterline of your eye and brush a few strokes of mascara over your lashes, finishing with a little clear gloss on your lips. Last night you’d painted your finger and toenails a soft cream, you add some pearl earrings and the necklace that Boss had given you when he first took you on.

You give yourself the once over in the mirror, making sure to not look too close, you figure that you don’t look as exhausted as you usually do, and for all intents and purposes, are ready. You wait. Its ten minutes to ten, when Boss is due, you sit patiently on the edge of your bed, your heart hammering in your chest, you’d stopped the music a few minutes prior, you know Boss likes silence, and you want to appease him. You roll your pearl earring between your index finger and your thumb anxiously, you hear the gate buzz and Jools answer. It’s a few moments before you hear his heavy footing stalks toward your door, you glare at the golden door knob, it turns, painstakingly slow. He knows you’re apprehensive and he likes to remind you of that. The door finally pushes open, assaulting the empty space between it.

You stare at him, he looks you over. He looks as grimy as ever, he is a short and stout man, with snow white hair and a beard to match, the golden tooth cap that covers one of his front teeth blinds you as he smiles from ear to ear, if you weren’t under so much pressure to please him, you might’ve thrown up at the sight of him.

“There’s my girl, as innocent as ever,” he looks straight through you before turning, closing and ensuring to lock the door. “don’t keep me waiting, stand up.” The instructions are clear as day, you stand on your weak legs, focusing everything you have on not letting Boss see how anxious you are. He steps toward you and reaches out; he draws a line from your bottom lip to your right nipple with his thumb. Your corset protects you from feeling his perverted touch, suddenly you are over the moon with your choice of undergarment. He picks at the hem of your pretty pink gown, he lifts it and you raise your arms instinctively, it’s soon removed and discarded on the floor behind him like a rag.

“I thought you might like this one, Sir.” Your breathing hitches as you await his verdict.

“You are right, little girl.” You feign a smile and give him your best doe-eyed look. He sighs, tired, turned on or frustrated you cannot tell, you wait anxiously before taking your next breath.

“I’m going to inspect you now, I have to make sure you are worth keeping, little Olive.” He moves to stand behind you and begins to unlace your corset. He easily removes it and places it carelessly on the bed. He steps so close you can feel him breathing down your neck, he looks down and observes you, with his hands reaching out he cups a breast in each hand. He places his thumbs and index fingers over your nipples and rolls them roughly, his cold, hard fingers fighting to get a physical reaction, you are not attracted to Boss in the slightest so it is hard to pretend you want him to continue, but if you close your eyes and think hard enough, you can just about picture somebody else, it’s what makes this whole ordeal that little bit more manageable.

“You’ve lost weight.” He observes, you panic.

“I have been working such long days, Sir, it was not on purpose, I promise.” You are apprehensive for what he will say next, to your surprise, he isn’t angered, in fact, he apologises.

“I have obviously not been supplying enough food, I will do better, and you shall have less work.” he continues his silent abuse on your tiny body, pulling your soft, brown hair over your left shoulder and continuing to roll your right nipple. He leans in and inhales your scent, you feel him let out a low growl, you can’t help the physical shudder that courses through you, you worry that you will start convulsing at any second, but Boss must have taken your shuddering as a sign to continue, something in him changes as he kicks your legs apart with his foot. Standing there in just those soft, silk panties, you are vulnerable, alone, completely at his mercy. You suck back a sob and picture all the times you have been at a mans mercy, you pray to a God that you do not even believe in that this will end soon, you are exhausted, completely shattered, absolutely broken. You just want peace.

He reaches his left hand into the front of your panties and feels your softness, “You are a good girl, keeping all tidy for me. I bet you even oiled yourself up this morning in anticipation. You did, didn’t you?” You can sense the dirty excitement in his voice, you nod, meekly in response, you have learnt very quickly that you need to sell whatever sick fantasy Boss is having to keep living comfortably, how you must remain his little bitch, to get your own way, eventually. You close your eyes and let go of any shred of dignity you were still grasping onto, you begin to grind into his hand, silently begging for him to give you something, to make him feel like you need him, he lets out low, perverted, guttural moan.

“You’re desperate for me, aren’t you?” It’s working.

“Please Sir. Touch me, please.” A silent tear breaks loose and wets your cheek, his erection tents and you feel it pressing against the arch of your back, you dare to reach a hand behind to palm him, he moans, without warning, you feel a finger roughly enter you, Boss layers his fingers with expensive and unneeded gold signet rings and although you hate to admit it, the cool of the jewellery feels fucking good. His alien finger curls upwards as your breathing hitches, feeling the golden rings rub against your hole.

“You are as tight as the day I took you as a young girl.”, you cringe at him bringing up your broken childhood as another silent tear falls, you try to ignore his perverted comment as you continue to palm his erection from behind you, he abruptly pulls his finger out as you are violently bent over your bed, he tears your pretty panties down to your knees.

“Put your hands above your head, and don’t move them, I’m going to inspect your holes now.” You feel him as he gapes you wide open, running a finger from your sensitive clit, to your pussy, he circles it, slipping a finger in to the first knuckle, you sense the second about to plunge into you when there is a strong knock at the door.

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO INTERRUPT ME.” You are frightened by how angered the man looming above you sounds. Afamiliar cold voice answers back. “Sir, it really cannot wait. Its E.S.” silence befalls your little room as the tension rises, you’re face down with your hands above your head, a finger in your cunt and your ass spread wide. You’re thankful there is a door separating you from the voice outside.

“Do not move, little girl.” You are frightened by the anger behind his words, you remain where you are, Boss stands up straight and strides to the door opening it wide.

“I will go, you are to take over here, make sure she is worth keeping, I’ll expect extensive feedback on my desk by eight tomorrow.” And with that, you hear his footsteps fade as he paces toward to exit.

-

You suddenly realise that someone is standing at your door and heat flushes to your ears, you jump up snatching what little dignity you could salvage as you speedily pull your panties back up, you protect your chest with your arms. Glaring at you, you meet the same pair of eyes you did yesterday afternoon, you are mortified, you try to say anything but nothing comes out and you stand there with your mouth wide open.

“You’ll catch flies like that, whore.” Levi retorts, this is the last thing you wanted to happen right now, or ever really. You barely have time to think before you instinctively bite back; “You’ll catch a slap if you keep staring at me like that,” you immediately regret saying anything, “what I mea…” you are interrupted as he strides toward you at a sickening pace, roughly grabbing your delicate throat, you whimper in response and a small smirk forms at the corners of your mouth.

“You’re disgusting.” Levi practically spits, this piques your interest.

“Are you going to inspect me, Mr Ackerman?” You should’ve closed your stupid mouth, but something inside of you wants to antagonise him, needs to antagonise him.

“If I had a choice, I’d not step within fifty metres of you.” He doesn’t hesitate for a second and you almost feel bad, but your mouth works faster than your brain.

“But you don’t have a choice, so are you going to?” He releases his tight grip of your neck and spins you so effortlessly you may as well have weighed the same as a stuffed toy, the next thing you know, you are face down in your mattress. With his palm forcing you down, he spits in your face, “you deserve nothing more than a beating followed by a rough fucking, I’ll teach you a few things about respect.” He’s angry, and you’re finally excited, you asked for something new, something different, and here it was, pinning you down and spitting in your face. Your heart swells.

You bait him, your next mistake.

“You think you’ll be able to teach me about respect? I apologise Mr Ackerman, but you are the man who just spat in my face. At least aim for my mouth next tim…” you are cut off as grabs a pillow and forces it over your face.

“I’m sick of the noise coming from you and I can’t stand the sight of you.” Levi stands up straight, letting the pillow go so it sits over your face as he removes his jacket, you hear him fold it and place it tidily on your chair, this humours you and you let out a muffled giggle. Levi pauses to look at you before he chooses to ignore you, giggling and with a pillow over your face, ass up in the air, he almost grabs it before continuing with his before task. He pulls a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and kneels, leaning over you and removes the pillow.

“Open.” His command is simple and you immediately follow, like a little puppy, his jaw tenses as he stuffs the handkerchief in your mouth.

“I do not like you, or even respect you, but I am not a monster, so, as I inspect you, if anything makes you uncomfortable, you are to raise your hand and I will stop. Understand?” You nod meekly and hide the blush rushing to your cheeks, never in your life has someone shown you such kindness, much less someone who so say hated you.

“You’ll use your hands now and spread yourself so I can inspect you now.” He sure wasn’t being unbearable, but he sure wasn’t living up to the beating and rough fucking he had promised you, his energy had changed, he was almost soft, or maybe you’d imagined that. Levi pulls a tight-fitting leather glove out of his pocket and slips his hand into it. He steps up behind you and grasps your little legs, and like you are nothing more than a doll, lifts you up onto the mattress with the rest of your top half.

“Keep your head down but stay on your knees,” he runs his hand over your soft rump and presses the arch of your back down, “well trained pets arch their back; it gives a better view to their owners.” The way he calls you pet makes you quiver with anticipation and you feel the slick building between your thighs. Levi must have sensed it because he pulls them down over your ass, painstakingly slow, you’re sure he’s doing it do you’ll feel them pull away from the slick forming at your embarrassingly eager cunt. Letting them fall to where your knees are planted he moves his face dangerously close to your slick covered hole, you feel his warmth in places you have never had touched before. You feel his finger circle your clit, being gently with his touch, sending shivers up your spine as a result. You dare to lean back into his touch. Men never touch you this way, really its only ever you who has circled your swollen bud with your nimble fingers, chasing your own orgasm, a real orgasm, not like the ones you orchestrate for the male gaze.

You wait for Levi to say something but he doesn’t, instead, he increases the pressure to the circles he is tracing, causing your breath to catch in your throat, you let out the tiniest mewl praying that he doesn’t hear it, he pulls his hand away.

“You are not supposed to be enjoying this, whore.” You let out a defeated sigh. Levi doesn’t move for a few minutes; you blush as you feel his eyes boring into your slick covered holes, you cannot see, but he is contemplative, he is thinking, wondering. You pray that he will say something else. Once again, he does not, he simply circles your swollen lips and probes his leather clad middle finger in. You swear you hear him let out a strained breath, but you’re not sure, your head is spinning and men don’t really take pleasure in stuff like this, do they?

He pushes in again, the furthest knuckle meeting your lips, he curls his finger upwards and rubs it against your walls, you know better than to make a sound, slowly, he pulls his finger out and you cringe at your wetness, your body must cringe physically as well because Levi picks up on it.

“Do you not like the sounds? To me, it is one of the best parts. I like to hear myself playing with the holes I fuck. It is a reminder of how depraved you are, how wet you get being manhandled.” With that he forces both his middle and ring finger into you, he curls up and rubs against your walls again, pulling his fingers back out, thrusting them back inside and repeating it over. You mewl again, but this time he does not stop.

“Listen to yourself, pet.” He continues his internal assault, though usually where you hate the assault left by men, you were enjoying his, you were hungry for it.

“Can you feel it building? Inside of your tiny body? Chase the end for me, I want you to.” Levi leans in and spits on where his fingers continue to scoop out of you like he was deseeding a melon, you squeeze your eyes shut and let the fire build in the pit of your stomach, you cry louder, your breathing speeding up, this pleasing him, Levi spanks you hard, his hands are heavy, and it hurts like hell, you feel your body about to reach its peak, you’re not sure how long you can hold off.

“I’m so… I’m so close… Please.” you try to cry out, but it comes as pathetic muffles through the handkerchief Levi had shoved inside your mouth, with that, he stops dead. In what feels like a nano second, you are flipped onto your back, held to the bed with Levi grasping your neck again. He straddles you, you cannot breathe he fists your throat so tightly you fear you may pass out, but you do not signal for him to stop, not once

His eyes stare into yours, they are full of lust; causing you to wonder if he secretly was enjoying this, that he may even like you, he shakes his head as if he heard your thought, you try your luck and dare to lift your hand and palm through his jet-black hair.

“Do not touch me.” He warns as he pins your hand above your head, his eyes turn back to the cold glare you’ve become quite acquainted with, he stands up and pulls you with the hand that was pinned against the bed.

You are thrown onto the cold wooden floor and your knees echo a cracking sound as they make contact, it stings, like an injured animal you try to crawl away but Levi is hot on your trail, he steps on your leg, just above your ankle, you are pinned, you try hard to wriggle out, but he is not weak. His shoe is freezing cold on your skin, the pain is manageable as he is holding back a little but you can feel a bruise forming already.

He violently pulls his belt undone and yanks his trousers down releasing his sizeable cock from the restraints of his boxers, “You’re making this harder for yourself, just stop wriggling.” You comply, feeling tired now, your little body starting to feel the abuse given to you over the last half hour, Levi’s eyes show a little pity as he flips you back onto your front, you knowingly kneel and push your holes on display for him as he removes his leather glove, with his trousers crumpled around his knees, he lines up behind you, he smacks your bare ass a few more times before collecting your slick on his fingers then coating his straining hardness with it before he palms it himself a few times. He presses the very tip against your hot lips before sheathing himself inside you completely.

Levi is much bigger than the men you usually take and you cry out and cover your own mouth with your hand, he reaches and pulls both of your arms tight behind you, grasping them both with one of his stern hands and the other continues to assault your ass cheeks with hard smacks.

“Don’t silence yourself, I want you to serve me as you would serve any other man, I want to hear you cry out, I want to hear you beg for me, I want to hear you come for me. Do you understand, pet?” You choose to stay silent, instead spitting out the handkerchief.

“I understand that you want me to do my job, I’m not stupid y’know.” A stupid, snide remark from you as he chokes you again, his fingers pressing into your windpipe. You’re sure he will kill you if he presses any harder. Levi slaps you hard, once, twice, thrice, you feel blood pool in your mouth as you realise he has cut your lip, you don’t hesitate as you spit in his face, the blood painting an ugly picture.

He licks his lips and contemplates his next move, he bucks his hips into you hard, you cry out, in pain or in pleasure, you are not sure but he continues to thrust in and out of you, reaching so deep inside you that you feel like breaking, yet you do not raise your hand. He releases the grasp on your arms, and they fall forward to support you as you are fucked, rough.

Levi reaches a hand around your legs and feels for your clit. He begins to rub slow circles again, and you feel it radiate deep inside your little body, he is unrelenting on his mission to make you come.

“Don’t hold back. I can feel you’re getting close.”, he reaches his other hand and pinches your left nipple between his fingers, he twists it hard and you mewl.

“Please don’t stop. Please. Please I want to come.” You’re barely audible as you practically whisper through your moans, the pleasure from Levi is unbearable, as t reaches its peak you see stars, you’ve never come like this before, like he truly cares about your pleasure, your body trembles and you come under his control, you can’t help but hold your breath as he releases his fingers from their current roles, and they grab your hips and fuck you back into him.

Continuing to come undone as Levi chases his own finish he grunts as he unloads ropes of come deep inside you, it’s warm and you welcome the feeling of being filled, suddenly, you are empty and his cock is gone, you feel his seed dripping out of you, your eyes grow heavy and you feel your chest heaving, the last thing you see is Levi scooping you up into his arms, you swear you saw a look of softness across his face, a look of hurt.

-

When you awaken, you are tucked into bed, a large t-shirt swallowing your sore body, you sit up and your head spins, it’s is dark outside and there is a glass of water and a small note on your bedside table, you sip from the glass and apprehensively thumb the note.

“I’m sorry” it reads. Levi. You cringe as you remember begging him for your orgasm. You’re pulled from your thoughts as your door quietly opens and Jools enters.

“Are you okay Olive?” he sounds genuinely concerned, “you’re covered in bruises… did he hurt you?” He looks away, clearly uncomfortable, again, you cringe as you recall the experience.

“I am okay Jools, I promise. How did I get to bed?” You expect Jools to say that he came and rescued you, but he doesn’t, instead he hesitates before beginning, “Levi… He, well, he bathed you, he applied creams, washed your hair, and he put you into bed. He hung around for a few hours, y’know. In case you awoke. Then he asked for some paper, wrote you a note and left.” You smile at that knowledge, regardless of what the note says, you feel that he wants to see you again.

“What did the note say?” Jools questions.

“Nothing important, just an apology, its weird”.

“Oh. Okay. If he really hurt you, you are to tell me. It is not usual for Levi to… Engage with women like he did with you. His behaviour was strange I don’t trust him”.

You look at Jools, he reaches out to touch your face, it aches, you remember the blows to your face, you are probably bruised there, too. “I am fine Jools, I was just doing my job, I am better for it, considering I didn’t have to engage with Boss!” You feign a smile, though Jools can see its fake, he trusts you enough to talk to him when you are ready.

“You had better go to bed then, Levi paid off your afternoon caller, by the way, I’m not sure about him, so be careful, please.” He turns and leaves, the door closes and you lay your heavy head back on your pillows, a curious shadow lurks by your window, but you miss it, falling into a deep slumber.

Just some peeping Tom, probably.

[theartofbeinganerd]

Alright, what I’ve got lined up for tonight is a bit different. Recently, I finished posting one of my multi-chapter fics, a hand to hold (take me home), which means that I’ve got an opening in my writing schedule for another one. However, I’ve narrowed it down to two options, and I figured I’d let you all decide which one I go with! I’ll give a brief summary of each, and there are snippets below the cut of both of them, to help make the decision easier. Whichever one is chosen, I’ll likely begin posting it sometime soon, so keep an eye out! Thanks!

Option One:  When a greedy politician rolls out his new policy that’ll leave a small-town middle school with a lack of enough funds to stay open after the current school year, the residents of the town think the situation to be hopeless. The same, however, cannot be said for the staff of Margaret Carter Middle School, who will fight with everything they have to stay open – or rather, fundraise with everything they have. This is (obviously) a teachers AU, which is centered around the relationships between both Fitzsimmons and Mackelena, though I’d say it probably focuses more heavily on FS because hi, it’s me. There’s humor and romance and all of the team, with as many fundraising gimmicks as I can fit in the fic.

Option Two: Which doesn’t have a summary yet, but basically it’s a rewrite of my first ever AoS fic, Hardest Kept Promises (which I look back on now and...Yikes), one that I’ve wanted to do a rewrite of for some time. It’s a Season 2 AU, where Clint and Natasha join the team at the Playground following the Season 1 finale, and Natasha befriends Jemma and helps her to realize that she has feelings for Fitz in return during the nine days that he’s in a coma. This one is Angst City and closely follows the events of Season 2, told from the POVs of Jemma and Natasha, as Jemma navigates Fitz’s injury and their distance while fully aware of her feelings for him, often counseled by closet romantic Natasha Romanoff. ((Also, it ignores the....more romantic events of AoU, and Clintasha is featured as an established relationship))

(Ao3)

-

Teachers AU

“Hey, Fitz, can I – is that more chocolate?”

Guiltily, Fitz paused in his frenzied effort to hide a small pile of chocolate bars in the top desk of his drawer. “Oh, hey Simmons…um…something you needed?”

Heaving an exasperated sigh and shaking her head, Jemma crossed her arms over her chest and stepped further into the classroom. Once she was standing in front of Fitz’s desk, she peered disappointedly down at him, the same look that she used on her students when they tried to form some kind of excuse as to why they didn’t have their homework. “Oh Fitz. It’s not a fundraiser if you’re buying up all of the product.”

“I only have so much willpower!” Fitz cried defensively. “How am I supposed to say no to candy bars?”

Jemma pressed her lips together to hide her amused smile as she shook her head again. “Maybe we should have gone with Daisy’s calendar idea – at least that way you wouldn’t be in danger of solely funding us.”

Fitz pulled a horrified face, and it caused Jemma to finally break, laughter slipping past her lips and revealing her ruse. “Very funny, Simmons. But I’m not joking when I say that no one would buy a calendar of ‘sexy teachers’ if I was in there with my shirt off.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Jemma replied with a placating pat to his shoulder, though she figured that the laughter still lingering in her voice made the sentiment less believable, from the telling scowl that Fitz threw in her direction.

“Anyway,” he started pointedly, “what was it that you wanted before?”

For a moment, Jemma had forgotten that she’d had a purpose in dropping by Fitz’s classroom, but at his not-so-subtle reminder, she said, “Oh! Yes, I was wondering if I could borrow a couple of your microscopes. I’m starting the cell unit tomorrow and I don’t have enough for the class, even putting them in pairs.”

“Sure thing,” he replied easily, getting up from his desk and crossing the classroom to the back counter, where a small amount of microscopes were set up in a row. “How many do you need?” he called over his shoulder.

“Two should do it, thank you,” Jemma answered a bit distractedly, taking the chance to check his desk drawer. Once it had been pulled all the way out, her eyebrows rose high on her forehead as she caught sight of the chocolate bars practically lining it. “Ugh Fitz!”

“What?!” When she raised her head to glare at him, she noticed him balancing the two requested microscopes in his arms, struggling a bit under the weight of them, and his cheeks slowly growing redder and redder as he figured out what she’d seen. “Hey, I’ve never claimed to have an ounce of self-control when it comes to chocolate.” Clearly trying to save face, he added, “’Sides, it’s not exactly surprising. You know this happens every year.”

With a sigh, Jemma perched lightly on the edge of Fitz’s desk and reminded him sadly, “This isn’t every other year though, Fitz. We’re not raising money for field trips or extra lab equipment, not without that tax money.”

Fitz grimaced, partly at her words, but also partly, it appeared, due to his continued juggling of the microscopes. Rolling her eyes fondly, Jemma stood from his desk and (only after trying to take one of the microscopes from Fitz and receiving a childish shake of the head in response) wordlessly gestured for him to follow her on the short walk from his classroom in the seventh grade hallway to hers in the eighth. As he trailed behind her, he grumbled, “If it wasn’t for that bastard Governor Ward and his filthy, lying bastard face… I still have no bloody clue how he even got elected.”

“Some people don’t care to look past the clearly false promises,” Jemma sighed, pushing open the door to her classroom and stepping back to allow Fitz to enter. “You can put them over there,” she told him, pointing toward a relatively empty table. Watching absently as Fitz did as she asked, Jemma felt a rush of sadness at the thought that this time next year, she might not be in this classroom setting up slides of plant cells or discussing recent scientific discoveries over tea with Fitz in the afternoons as they put off grading just a little bit longer.

“Hey.” At Fitz’s soft voice beside her, Jemma glanced up in surprise, a small smile flitting involuntarily across her lips when he nudged her shoulder with his. “Ward’s not shutting us down. We’re gonna prove to him that we’re prepared to fight for our school.”

As her smile became more genuine, Jemma’s mind flashed back almost a decade, to when she and Fitz had just been fresh-faced almost-college-graduates, interning at the tiny Margaret Carter Middle School in some tiny little town, entirely unaware that it was where they’d meet the person that would become their best friend in the world. The school meant so much to both of them, and Jemma couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else or with anyone else.

Gently dropping her head to rest on Fitz’s shoulder, she murmured in agreement, “We’ll show him.”

-

Season 2 AU

“Looking for some tips?”

Jemma glanced up from the fact sheet Coulson had had printed up for her, one that she’d been studying meticulously for the past few hours. Glad to give her eyes a rest, she just about managed a smile for Natasha, nodding gratefully. “Anything to help. I’m a rather dreadful liar. I mean, I have been getting better but not…not on this level.” She gestured to the paper that contained what she was now supposed to pass off as her history.

“If Coulson thinks you can do it, then you must have the skill to back it up,” Natasha stated plainly, perching on a stool across the island from her. Nervously, Jemma threw a glance at the doorway to the commissary, always worried that Fitz would be the next to enter, that he’d somehow catch wind of her plans to go undercover, that he’d be…be even angrier with her.

She knew he was never going to understand why she was doing what she was, but no matter how much it would hurt, she had to go through with it – to give him time and space to heal, to give him a fighting chance, to protect him.

“I just saw him heading to the lab,” Natasha said suddenly, automatically bringing Jemma’s gaze back to her knowing face. “He won’t be stopping by anytime soon.”

Jemma colored at being read so easily, anxiously curling the corners of the paper in front of her with her fingertips. “Oh.”

Mercifully, Natasha dropped the subject (it was one of the things Jemma appreciated about the legendary agent the most – she never beat around the bush, and she never pressed if she didn’t need to; it made her surprisingly easy to talk to), and instead she said bluntly, “You should cut your hair.”

Taken aback, Jemma absently raised her hand to finger the waves drifting past her shoulders (she hadn’t had the ambition to put in the time it took to straighten it, not since…since they’d arrived at the Playground). “Cut my hair?”

“And change up your wardrobe. Maybe go a bit darker and heavier with your makeup. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that changing your appearance can go quite a ways with adopting a new personality. Almost every time I go undercover, I look like someone new because I am someone new. You have to live your new identity to sell it.”

It made sense, Jemma had to admit, but the very first thought that popped into her head was, when I return, will Fitz even recognize me? But, she shook away the ridiculous fear and reminded herself that it was all for him, to protect him, and she’d do anything to protect him. “Cut my hair, change my clothes, wear heavier makeup; got it. Anything else? Anything that might help an awful liar survive in the lion’s den?” She forced a little laugh at the end, hoping to seem more calm and breezy than she felt.

Natasha didn’t seem fooled. Her piercing eyes studied Jemma carefully for a long, silent moment, and though she didn’t say a word about it, Jemma somehow knew that she’d seen right through her sad attempt, saw through all the walls she’d been attempting to erect around her heart in an effort to protect it – an effort that came far too late.

“Try to keep things as close to the truth as possible,” Natasha advised finally. “They ask if you’re loyal to HYDRA? You reply by saying that you go where science leads you. It’s true, right? They’ll just think that it’s led you from SHIELD to them. They ask why you gave up on SHIELD, why you switched sides? You tell them you’re trying to move on from losing a partner.”

Jemma inhaled sharply at the innocuous words, her grip on her fact sheet tightening so abruptly that it crinkled in her fists. Tears began to fill her eyes, and she hoped distantly that Natasha would think they were the reason she was blinking so rapidly, and not because she was trying to push away the image of Fitz’s last, watery, trembling smile before he pushed that damn button and him lying in that bed hooked up to tubes and an IV and nine days of horror and the way he hadn’t recognized her when his eyes had first opened and the frustration and anger and pain on his face every time he couldn’t find a word or his hands shook directed at her always at her.

“Simmons.” Natasha’s tone was firm, demanding her attention, but somehow also gentle with concern, with sympathy. When Jemma blinked her watery gaze back to Natasha’s face, she went on, “I’m hitting all the nerves because you need to prepared – it’s what they’re going to do. They’re going to try and break you, they’re going to push you to your limits, and they will push on the raw nerves until you cave. And when you cave, when they find out you’re a spy, they will kill you. Or worse.”

She almost asked what could be worse than HYDRA making her and then killing her, but at the last moment she realized that she probably didn’t want to know – she was already likely to have nightly nightmares about what would happen if her cover was blown, ones where she was promptly executed and she never got a chance to tell Fitz that he was more than that too; she didn’t need to add fuel to that fire.

“Good to know,” Jemma said faintly, her weak attempt at a joking smile coming out closer to a grimace than anything else. “I think, out of everything, what I’m most afraid of is how…how he’ll take it. That’s silly, isn’t it?”

“No,” Natasha replied firmly. “I think it’s only natural for you to be concerned about how he’ll take it. Especially given that it’s not exactly an assignment you can share.”

Jemma agreed with Coulson’s decision to label her assignment classified, knew that it made perfect sense logically, but that didn’t make the idea of having to lie to Fitz any easier. They almost never lied to each other, and never without good reasons – life or death reasons – and she couldn’t imagine what doing so now would do to their already damaged relationship. But, not telling him was for his own good; she knew he’d drive himself mad with worry within a week, and she was not what needed his concentration at the moment; that was the whole point of her leaving, after all.

Even if he wasn’t going to have cause to worry about her, though, she knew he was going to (it was in their nature, after all, to worry about each other constantly) and if she could ease some of that burden by keeping her true destination a secret, she would gladly do it. However, once she was gone, she couldn’t protect him from the knowledge of her whereabouts, let alone anything else, nor even make sure he was doing his exercises or taking time to calm down before he destroyed the lab in a fit of anger, and the very thought of was eating away at her.

She knew she had to do something, but no one else knew about her plans to go undercover, so she couldn’t ask this of them without it seeming suspicious. But, Natasha…

Hesitating briefly, Jemma asked softly, “Will you…well, I know the others will look out for Fitz and help him, of course, they care about him too, but he’s so bad about accepting help – he’s so proud, that one, always has been – but perhaps since you and Agent Barton have nothing to compare him to, maybe he’ll accept your friendship and your aid, subtly, of course, overt aid will put him off immediately –”

She cut herself off when Natasha reached out to lay a hand over hers, and she caught and held Jemma’s gaze as she told her sincerely, “I promise, I will try and watch out for Fitz as much as Clint and I can.”